


All I Have

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What exactly do you say when Derek catches you having some private time with his name on your lips?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Have

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt Yes. And for DazedRose for being wonderful.

So there are some words Stiles knows are pretty damn powerful. Ever since he began experimenting with the whole ‘I can do stuff with words, belief and some pretty powders’, he’s become more and more aware that words just act as a conduit for his belief. His will.

Sometimes he feels like he’s stepped into a bad fantasy novel, but he tries to tamp that thought down. The werewolf thing is bad enough.

Stiles likes words. He likes to let them roll out, fill up awkward silences. Especially awkward silences like the one right now. The problem is that he can’t think of what to say. He’s almost ready to comment on the weather when Derek lets out a huff. “I can’t believe I let Scott talk me into this.”

“I’m just glad you guys are, you know, talking.” And that should be it. Stiles should be able to make some crack about how proud he is of Derek for learning to use words as opposed to violence and glares. But the words seem to dry up in his throat. He should be able to talk about lacrosse or how much homework he has. How ‘bout them Giants? Anything. But instead Stiles slumps down in the passenger seat of Derek’s car and watches the brick wall in front of them.

The problem is… Fuck. Stiles knows what the problem is. The problem is Derek. Or, to be precise, the fact that the last time Derek had been perched on his windowsill (like some kind of demented bird. A giant wolfy pigeon) he’d caught Stiles doing what came naturally. While he was polishing the rocket, whipping the skippy, spanking the monkey. While he was rubbing one out. He’d been really, really into it, being as he was alone in the house and he’d been getting in the mood for quite some time and maybe there had been some lotion and a couple of digits slipping lower than he would normally be taking time for. This wasn’t his usual, habitual twist twist come. He’d been _really_ enjoying himself, letting his mind replace his own thin fingers with, well, Derek. Derek’s fingers, Derek’s cock. It had been Derek’s hand he’d been imagining cupping his balls, twisting over his cock. Derek’s mouth swallowing him down.

And Stiles knew he hadn’t exactly been doing the one man band in silence. He had perhaps gasped out Derek’s name a few times. Just to see what it tasted like. He’d wondered if Derek would kiss him when he said his name or whether he’d say Stiles’ name back. And Stiles had been damn close and he could almost imagine that he was hearing Derek saying his name until he realised that, yes, he was actually hearing Derek say his name. His eyes had shot open and he’d taken in Derek’s wide eyes, his actual honest-to-god blush and Stiles’ self-control couldn’t hang on anymore and he’d come, saying Derek’s name one more time. Then he’d grabbed for the covers and hidden until Derek had gone away.

It was all Derek’s fault for being a creepy stalkery pervert. But Stiles’ brain seemed intent on replaying that moment and that was why Stiles had no words. None.

His phone chimes and he checkes his messages, holding the screen towards Derek so he could read Scott’s reassurance. 

Derek twists in his seat. “Weather’s been drier later.” 

“Did you seriously just bring up the weather? What happened to Mr ‘I don’t talk I just growl’. I liked him. We should return to having him. But yeah.” Stiles could feel himself nodding quicker and quicker towards the end of his little diatribe so he pinned his lips shut.

“I didn’t think that ‘do you always think about me when you masturbate’ was a particularly good conversation opener.” Derek’s hands flex on the steering wheel and Stiles watches, fascinated, trying to work out whether there was going to be claws anytime soon. Or whether Derek is going to grab him and slam his head against the dash. When Derek’s hands don’t shift (or _shift_ ), Stiles chances a glance up, only to see that Derek’s cheeks seem to be darker. Like he’s blushing.

“You need to ask?” Stiles checks his phone again. “Can’t you, like, smell it?”

“Smell it?” Derek keeps his eyes fixed on the corner of the alleyway. He definitely doesn’t look at Stiles. “I’m not a bloodhound.”

Stiles wonders about that, being as he’d had Scott hang out of his car window when searching for Lydia, and Jackson, and his dad that one time. He knows that Scott can smell all kinds of things he really doesn’t want to. He risks another look in Derek’s direction, unsurprised that a passing car highlights the fact Derek really is blushing.

“I think you’re lying.” Stiles shifts in his seat. If he was really going to do this, he was going to man the fuck up and at least look at Derek while he’s rejected. “I think you already know.”

Derek’s hands curl around the steering wheel one last time before he drops his hands to his lap. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” Stiles uses the fact Derek’s arm is no longer a barrier between them to shuffle a little closer. He can’t just jump into Derek’s lap and start with the making out. He needs a little more verbal confirmation. A little more time to plan would also be good. Possibly also a reality check.

“Yes, I know. Yes, I knew what you were doing. Yes, I couldn’t stop myself from…” Derek drifts off. At least he’s looking at Stiles now and he seems to be breathing a little heavier.

“Being the creepiest of creepy…” Derek’s hand’s across his mouth. That’s not cool. Especially not since Stiles has managed to get his words to work again. So he licks Derek’s palm. A couple of times. It tastes kinda nice. Derek glares at him and Stiles definitely cannot do anything about the lurch he feels in the pit of his stomach or the fact his cock kinda twitches.

“Yes.” Derek tells him again. Stiles has a feeling that this yes was to a question he hadn’t actually asked yet. Derek lifts his hand.

“So can I kiss you now?” The words trip over themselves as Stiles leans forward but luckily Derek seems to understand them, judging by the fact the next thing Stiles feels is Derek’s mouth on his, warm, wet, kinda scratchy with the stubble. In essence, perfect.

Then Scott batters on the window and Stiles jerks back. “You guys have the worst timing.”

Then there’s running for their lives and some blood and a little bit of public property destruction but, underneath life as usual, Stiles has the reassurance that Derek had said yes. Stiles is pretty fucking sure that was yes to pretty much everything as well.


End file.
